


sunbeam

by johnshuaa



Series: mystical, sparkling universe [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Cats, Familiars, Fluff, M/M, Magical Realism, Mild Angst, Minor Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin, Minor Suh Youngho | Johnny/Qian Kun, Urban Fantasy, Witches, cat!donghyuck, witch!Mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27667565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnshuaa/pseuds/johnshuaa
Summary: Haechan is missing. The cat has never been far, but this time, he's gone, completely gone, and Mark’s world, he took with him.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: mystical, sparkling universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007775
Comments: 24
Kudos: 184





	sunbeam

**Author's Note:**

> after a long year plus, I have finally gotten to writing out this bad boy. i couldn't leave this world hanging :D
> 
> working title: i would name this sun baby but that’s the name of the sun baby in teletubbies

When the trees outside of  _ Red Bean _ are barren, leaves barely hanging onto the branches, the bark a sickly ash color, Mark knows something is wrong, because even when it’s autumn, when plants fall victim to the natural chemicals that prepare them for the winter, the maple trees framing the shop’s front door are usually beautifully green, so healthy that looking at it makes one question whether it really is autumn, or if spring had somehow stopped by early. Kun makes sure of it, loving the grand old oaks outside his shop as much as the baby plantlings inside. 

However, when Mark glances up at the pair of old trees, brown and dead leaves surrounding the trunks, branches broken and tilted to the ground, begging for someone to help them stand back up to their former glory, he knows something is wrong.

The feeling of dread makes his heart clench, and he grabs onto the strap of his bag over his shoulder for some sense of reassurance. As he enters the store, there’s no shower of glitter that he’s usually met with, and the naturally lit room is dark without the sun out. As Mark passes by the pots on display at the window, he notices how the plants droop lower every passing minute. Even Kun’s most cared for crystal flowers sitting on the back window sill, which receive the morning eastern rays, are closed, trying to shut out the gloom.

But most of all, Mark knows the world is wrong because he had woken up without the familiar feeling of fur against his cheek.

Haechan was missing, and Mark’s world, he took with him.

“Hello?” Mark calls out. “Is anyone here?”

He hears a squeak coming from the back room, so he approaches the front desk. A minute later, a dark-haired boy arrives, shaking his head like a dog. 

“The container for the fertilizer was still open when I tried to put it away,” Guanheng responds to Mark’s inquisitive glance. His cheeks are dusted with ginger and cinnamon freckles, blending softly into his pale green complexion. “Should have known. I hate using those glass jars.”

Guanheng moves to the side to grab a pair of shears and is already on autopilot to pick a few sprigs of catnip they keep on the high shelf behind the register. The plants curl into his touch, hugging his thumb until he removes them from the pot by the stem. When he returns, he furrows his brows.

“Where’s Haechan?”

Now that’s the question of the day. “I don’t know.” 

“Oh.” Guanheng blinks a few times. “ _ Oh. _ That’s weird.”

Mark sighs as he places his leather bag on the counter. He unlatches the belt buckle clasp and takes out three empty mason jars of his own, lining them up side by side on the table.

“Okay, hold on,” Guanheng says, “Your cat is missing? Did he just walk out of your apartment in the middle of the night or something? Can he even do that?”

The problem is, Haechan isn’t Haechan in the middle of the night. He’s Donghyuck, and that means he can easily prowl around the house on his own without restraint. He doesn’t have to beckon Mark to open doors for him, or to get him a snack from the fridge in those late hours. The only plausible explanation for why he’s gone is that he left on his own accord while in his human form.

“I’m honestly not sure,” Mark says, a half-lie. “I keep the garden door open in case he wants to go out at night, but that leads to the balcony.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Guanheng takes each of the glass jars, stuffs one under his arm and the other two in each hand, making his way to the wall behind the register under the plethora of antique cuckoo clocks. That’s where they store the variety of dried fruits and herbs, seeds that have been cured and ready for Mark to crush up for his potions. “Cats always land on their feet.”

Mark purses his lips.

“Are you going to go look for him today, then?” Guanheng continues his small talk, shoveling the pebbled peppercorn into the first mason jar. “I’m sure he’ll be able to get back home if he just got lost. Cats can do that, right?”

“I believe you’re thinking of pigeons.”

Guanheng hums. When he’s done filling all three of Mark’s jars with different ingredients, he spins to slide them back onto the register table. “He couldn’t have gone far, though. He’s still a cat,” he says as he ties twine around the lids, a paper tag hanging off the string labeling the date and ingredient. Then, he moves to the register, clicking away at the keys before the machine dings, the tray shooting out and nearly hitting Guanheng in the stomach. “I’m never going to get used to that…”

The words,  _ he’s just a cat _ echoes through Mark’s head as Guanheng rings him up. Haechan’s adamance to keep his secret, despite the several years they’ve already been living in the Witching Corner, getting to know anyone and everyone they come by, is finally kicking the two of them in the ass. Or it’s more so kicking Mark in the ass. 

Mark quietly thanks Guanheng as he exits the shop, the little bells ringing above his head. This time, he hardly realizes that they don’t shower him with the usual dusting of sparkles Kun always makes sure is working properly. Instead, as the glass door (less of glass, more of the leaves of the golden pothos sitting at the edge of the window display) opens, Mark nearly bumps heads with Renjun. 

Sometimes, it feels like he and Renjun live on opposite sides of the world despite having completed their training together in their teenage years. It is partially Mark’s fault, yes, holed up inside his apartment to complete his too-long to-do list of mixed errands and researching new potions. He thinks it’s partially Renjun’s fault too, hidden in Kun’s flower shop, taking on more shifts than his employer has to offer him. That, and the fact that over the past years, he has spent every other waking hour he could spare with Jaemin.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Renjun says with a giggle as Mark recovers from his shock. “You usually don’t stop by this early in the day.”

“No, I don’t.” Mark steps back so Renjun can enter the establishment. He watches as Renjun sheds his leather backpack and jacket, hanging the latter on the coat rack behind the register. “Had an earlier start to the day than usual, so my schedule’s a bit skewed.”

Renjun hums as he crosses behind Guanheng, who’s off in his own world as he sings a soft folklore song to himself while he tends to a small pot of sproutlings. He brushes his juniper fingers over the tiny leaves, and they lean, arching their stems to glance up at the dryad. Guanheng smiles down at the plants.

Renjun returns, tying his apron along the small of his back before he takes his place by Guanheng’s side at the register. “You have everything you need already?”

“Guanheng already took care of it.” Mark stares at Renjun for a minute. “How are you holding up?”

Renjun’s mouth opens and closes like a goldfish, contemplating how to respond. 

From what Mark has heard from Johnny, who heard from Kun, who Renjun had entrusted his dilemmas in, Jaemin had moved out past the border a few months prior. Supposedly, he’s off on his soul search with no set date of when he’ll come back for good. Mark doesn’t even know  _ if _ Jaemin will be coming back, considering how he packed up almost his entire life in a few pieces of luggage and carried it past the gate to the human side of town. He managed to leave behind the last puzzle piece of his happiness, somehow. 

Renjun had cried. A lot. Moved in with Johnny and Kun for a few days to recuperate. Then, moved out of his old home with Jaemin to join his coworkers Guanheng and Dejun on the opposite side of town. That’s all Mark could poke out of Johnny, though.

“I’ve been better,” Renjun finally says. “Things still hurt, but they’re healing.”

“I didn’t mean to pry—”

“You aren’t. We’re tied by blood, remember?”

“I— Yes, I know.” Mark awkwardly shifts his weight between his feet, unsure whether he should just leave now before he embarrasses himself further.

Renjun rests his hands on the register, bracing himself against the rich wood. “He’s coming to visit today.”

“Oh!” Mark’s face lights up. “That’s wonderful.”

“If you’d like, we’ll be meeting at the gate at noon. Jeno will be there too. We’re hoping to get lunch together to catch up,” Renjun says. “And of course, Haechan is invited too.”

Mark freezes up, and so does Guanheng, who’s hand cupping the little sprout halts. The leaves turn as if to glance at Mark, awaiting his response.

Mark supposes that their years together in apprenticeship makes it pretty easy for Renjun to read him like an open book. Mark fidgets with his fingers.

“I shouldn’t have said that, should I?” Renjun comments. Guanheng and the sprout shake their heads.

“It’s alright. I’m not too concerned. I’ll see you by the Northern Gate. Noon?” Mark lies through his teeth about that, and he knows Renjun knows that he’s really not as nonchalant as he pretends to be. Renjun drops it, though, pulling on his gardening gloves and a pair of shears from their tool drawer.

“See you then,” he says, and Mark turns on his heel, finally leaving the flower shop.

  
  


Mark tries his absolute hardest to ignore the itch tugging uncomfortably at his insides every time he bypasses a familiar landmark as he bikes down Main Street. The park is deserted, though usually bustling with children occupying the playground and families spending their weekend get-togethers there. Mark likes to go there for walks to clear his head while he stews some of his ingredients back home. 

Then, as Mark turns off of Main Street, he spots the corner store that’s much farther from Mark’s current apartment than his previous one. He still bikes his way out here nonetheless to visit their grandmother on Johnny’s father’s side. The quaint little shop is always decorated with bushels of vibrant flowers, courtesy of Kun, lining the windows and over the doorway in an arch, and if Mark hasn’t been there to run his errands a million times, he would have assumed it to be another flower shop. Grandma Seo doesn’t work on Sundays, so the small metal plaque is displaying the words  _ closed  _ in curly cursive. Mark notices how the bouquets decorating the display boxes for fresh fruit are browning at the edges of the petals and leaves. 

Finally, he gets to  _ Gudetama _ . It’s the only place that hasn’t seemed to change in the past day, its bright neon sign still bright and eye-catching. The frosty glass windows reveal some of their regulars in their seats. Mark wheels his bike onto the sidewalk and locks it onto the rack at the side alleyway between the diner and its neighboring barbershop. 

When he walks in, he beelines for a barstool seat instead of his booth. He sits there, fingers thrumming against the counter until Jungwoo notices, a pot of coffee in hand, a surprised look on his face.

“Mark. Surprising to see you here.” Jungwoo sets down the coffee pot to retrieve the notepad and pen clipped to his apron. “What can I get you today?”

Mark chews on his lower lip, contemplating, before he says, “A cappuccino, please.”

Jungwoo’s eyebrows are raised as he forgoes jotting down the order in favor of making it at the machine right behind him. “Coffee? Really?”

Mark nods. His knee bounces up and down nervously.

Jungwoo turns his focus to making the drink, while Mark looks around the restaurant. It’s like none of the guests have really noticed what’s happening, going about their typical day. It only makes Mark’s worry multiply tenfold. 

As Jungwoo gently slides Mark his cappuccino, a white clover drawn across the foamy top, Sicheng reveals himself from the kitchen. He wipes the back of his hand across his cheek, leaving a dark gray stain. His gaze sweeps across the restaurant before it settles on Mark away from his normal seat and an equally uncommon drink for the witch in front of him.

Sicheng, with a quick glance to either side of him, heads to Mark and Jungwoo. He points his metal spatula at Mark. It’s a little menacing, especially in the way he exhales gray smoke like there’s a fire brewing in his stomach that needs to let out some of its smog.

The flattened metal end jerks between pointing at Mark’s nose and the cup sitting on the counter in front of him.

“You’re not supposed to drink coffee, Mark,” Sicheng says.

“I’m an adult, I don’t—” Mark furrows his eyebrows. “How did you know—”

“It’s a small town,” Jungwoo replies for him.

“That doesn’t explain—”

“You forget Kun was the best man at my wedding.” Sicheng bangs the spatula against the counter, and it emits a crisp noise that makes the customers at the other end of the bar look up from their meals.

“Wait, is Johnny trying to keep tabs on me again?” Mark guffaws, curling his index finger around the curve of the cup’s handle. “It’s like he thinks I’m still seven.”

“Seriously, Mark, are you sure you can drink that?” Jungwoo interjects. “Our new coffee beans are extremely potent, and—”

Mark is gulping down the contents of his cup before Jungwoo can finish his sentence. 

There’s a reason he doesn’t drink coffee. One, it gives him jitters. He can drink some, if it’s eighty percent milk and doubled in sugar, but the cappuccino is bitter on his tongue, milky foam across his upper lip that he has to lick off. He winces as he puts the cup down.

And two, the accident from his youth that had caused some very minor (read: major) damages to his childhood home. It was like the caffeine caused an allergic reaction, but instead of his body acting up, his innate magic went haywire. Which is why Johnny has been put on his caffeine watch, and so is literally every single person somehow connected to the Lee and Seo Clan in this town, it seems. 

“I give up,” Sicheng says, dropping his arms and heading straight back into the kitchen. He turns one last time to give Mark a pointed look, however. “You better finish that before Yuta comes back from bringing in today’s shipments with Shotaro or he’s going to give you  _ hell  _ for the rest of your life.”

Mark responds to that by taking another long drink of his coffee.

He can already feel the caffeine agitating his magic by the tingle that runs through his body. This is nowhere near a good idea, but honestly, it’s the only one he’s thought of in the past few hours that could possibly work. 

He deems the drink finished when there’s only a little hint of white foam coating the bottom of the cup, and he slides it forward for Jungwoo to take to the sink. Jungwoo wipes down the area with a towel, and asks, “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

Mark waves him off. His stomach pools with something unpleasantly warm, like a fever. “I’ll be fine.”

He tries to stand, but stumbles against the counter, falling back onto the stool. Jungwoo reaches out to try and steady him, but he’s too far. Mark braces an arm on the surface.

“Sicheng!” he hears Jungwoo call out, but it’s fuzzy. “Yuta!”

Maybe drinking that cappuccino wasn’t the best idea.

  
  


Mark wakes up in a rather familiar bed that he recognizes as the one in Johnny’s guest bedroom. He’s crashed here many, many times, when his sofa just wasn’t sufficient for his aching back pains and when his own bed was suffocating under piles of  _ things _ he couldn’t seem to clean up.

“He’s an adult, Johnny. He can make his own decisions.”

That’s an unfamiliar voice in this apartment. 

“But he’s not  _ good _ at making decisions.” That’s Johnny. He can hear it in the exasperation dripping through his voice. “It’s always made him unstable. That’s why we are a tea-only family.”

“He hasn’t had coffee since he was twelve! How could he have known it would still be this bad?”

Mark groans when he pinpoints who the second voice is from.

“Good. You’re awake,” Johnny says. “Care to explain that stunt you pulled earlier today?”

“Let him sit up, at the very least.” Doyoung’s arms are crossed, a bored look on his face, standing behind Johnny, who’s sitting on a chair that looks like it belongs to the dining table set in the kitchen.

It’s quite odd to see his step-brother and former mentor side by side like this. Mark hasn’t seen them in the same room since he finalized his apprenticeship program, when Johnny and Doyoung first established their vendetta against each other. Now  _ that _ was a disaster much worse than the one Mark had caused now (at least he hopes so). It’s a miracle that Doyoung and Johnny were in the same room now for so long without blowing something up.

“Great.” Mark grimaces as he falls back into his pillow. “What the hell happened that landed  _ both _ of you here?”

“Don’t be ungrateful,” Johnny snaps, slapping Mark’s arm.

“Yuta called me the moment you knocked out cold,” Doyoung explains. “And inevitably, I had to bring  _ him _ because this is a family issue.”

“I can’t believe Yuta didn’t call for me first.  _ I’m _ his brother.”

“Yes, and  _ I _ taught him all he knows about magic. This is about coffee and its effects on his powers—”

“Can you both please shut up?” Mark groans. “I’m getting another headache.”

The two stop to glance at the youngest witch, bickering paused. Mark opens one eye to glare at them expectantly.

“Mark, what on earth were you trying to do?” Johnny asks, softer, more concerned. His eyebrows knit together as he grabs onto Mark’s wrist.

Mark barely remembers the first time this happened. He was too young and was unconscious for half of it. Johnny, however, had been more than old enough to remember, and for it to have changed his life as a whole. All Mark can recall is a quick spurt of energy bursting through him after a tiny sip of his Johnny’s father’s coffee, which was already way too much for his tiny, adolescent body. A few hospital visits, lots of foul, herbal medicine taken like clockwork for a week, and worrisome family members dropping by to visit consistently was what his days were like afterward. But of all things, he remembers Johnny sitting in the chair next to him all through that dreadful week, holding Mark’s hand, never letting go.

Eventually, Mark manages to rasp out, “Haechan.”

“Haechan?” Doyoung repeats. “What about him?”

“He’s missing. I can’t find him.”

It doesn’t take long for both of them to figure out what Mark’s intent was. They’re both extremely powerful and smart witches, after all. 

“Oh, Mark.” Johnny sighs. “It has nothing to do with your magic. It’s not your fault. He’s probably just… doing his own thing.”

“My cat, doing his own thing. Leaving me without a trace,” Mark mutters. “Sounds just right.”

“Listen to Johnny,” Doyoung interrupts. “You can’t blame yourself for this. He’s not tied to your magic like other familiars.”

_ What? _

Mark blinks at him. “How do you—”

“I think I’ll leave this family business to the family...” Doyoung takes a couple of steps back before exiting the room altogether.

“I’m so confused,” Mark groans.

He’s met with silence, and Johnny’s hand tightens around Mark’s. “You’ve seen what it’s like outside, right?”

“Well, yes, it’s hard not to notice.”

“Doyoung and I have been traveling across the sector to see what’s going on. Taeyong and Kun have just gone to visit the other districts to see if it’s widespread. We don’t know what’s causing it, but I have a feeling now that it may have something to do with you.”

“ _ I  _ caused this?”

Mark can’t imagine it. Can’t imagine him, a witch that makes a living making potions and spells in a third-floor apartment that he shares with his cat, somehow destroying his hometown, the little and quaint Witching Corner. Him…

“No, no. There’s something that’s off-balance here. I don’t know what it is, but I think Haechan being gone may have played a major role.”

Mark blanches. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Johnny reaches to the bedside table and procures a little chocolate bar from the drawer. Mark takes it gratefully. “Don’t pass out on me again.”

“Is everything going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Johnny says. “But we’ll fix it. We have the best warlocks and witches in the city on the case.”

“Then what are you still doing here? Go, save us.”

“No, I have to take care of you first—”

“Johnny, I know you still worry about me. It’s your job. You promised Mom that, but you also have an actual job to do. Plus, I’ve been doing my own thing for a while now, even if I do it wrong sometimes. That’s why you’re here, nearby.”

“You nearly died today, Mark.”

“And that’s part of the learning process.”

Johnny lets out a heavy exhale and squeezes Mark’s hand once more before standing up. “Alright. You better rest up then. Doyoung and I will visit the Southern Gate and see if we spot anything.”

“Wait, I want to help!”

“No, you need to get better. Kun’s medicine isn’t going to kick in for another two hours.”

Mark throws the blankets off his legs and sits up. “I’m all good! I want to help. Or at least… try to find more clues about where Haechan went. It’s the least I can do while you guys work.”

Johnny surveys him, pursing his lips. “Fine. If you want proper explanations, I suggest you head towards the Eastern Gate. Enter the tallest building and ask to see Mr. Moon. Tell them I sent you.”

“Mr. Moon, the Eastern Gate. Got it.”

“Be careful, okay?” 

“Of course.”

Johnny gives him one last worried glance before he exits the room, yelling, “Doyoung, get your shit, we’re leaving!”

  
  


The tallest building isn’t very tall. It’s a few stories up, a square, stone building with symmetrical windows lining each floor on its front. The door looks like the entrance to Mark’s apartment building, inconspicuous, a singular red door up on the platform of three steps up. 

Mark knocks and receives no response. That prompts him to try twisting the knob, and surely, the door flies open as soon as his hand brushes the metal.

The entrance is reminiscent of a grand hotel lobby, with its golden accents along with clean marble floors, like Mark walked straight into an ancient Greek party’s column-lined ballroom. He even wonders if he should shed his shoes to keep from tracking mud.

He heads towards the receptionist, where a tall boy stands, shuffling through papers in the silence, the sound echoing with the squeak of Mark’s shoes against the pristine floor.

“I’m looking for Mr. Moon?” Mark asks the boy as he approaches the desk.

“Mr. Moon isn’t open for walk-in appointments right now.”

“Uhm… My brother sent me. Johnny Seo?”

The boy freezes before he’s tossing the papers aside in favor of the old computer on the other side of the table. He types furiously, glancing up at Mark for a split second with an unreadable look on his face, before returning to the keyboard.

“Alright, I can schedule a slot for you in—”

“Sungchan, who is that?”

Mark whips his head around towards the source of the voice. He’s met with a man in a sharp suit, red undercut smoothed back, folders tucked under his arm. It doesn’t take much to pin him as  _ the _ Mr. Moon.

“An associate of Mr. Seo, sir.”

“Mr. Seo?” Mr. Moon burst into a wide smile. “Why didn’t you just say so? Come, join me in my office.”

Mark gives the boy at the desk, Sungchan, a curt smile, before he scuffles his way, following Mr. Moon down to the side of the lobby, where a golden elevator is situated. The ride upwards is silent, and Mark swears that they’re traveling up far longer than it would take to go up a four-story building.

And apparently, he’s completely wrong. The building itself on the outside looked like a plain, brick and square structure, but when he steps out of the elevator doors, he’s immediately met with glass windows on three of the four sides, each displaying a different lighting. A morning, sunset, and evening, and Mark thinks he should rub his eyes, because even with all the magic he has been trained to use, he cannot fathom this view to be real.

“Excuse the mess, I’ve been quite busy dealing with an urgent issue.” Mr. Moon extends an arm forward, palm open, and swipes across from one corner to another until the windows all make up one cohesive afternoon light. Mark walks closer to one of the walls and gazes out. He sees the unfamiliar buildings of the east sector, far, far below him.

“So, why did Johnny send his younger brother to find me today?”

“You know me?”

“I know everyone of witch and warlock descent in this town, Mark.” Mr. Moon heads towards his desk in the center of the office and leans on the edge, arms crossed. Out of nowhere, a Siamese cat emerges, stepping carefully across the large desk to avoid papers and stray binder clips scattered on the surface. Mark doesn’t think too much of it. Someone as powerful (or who Mark assumes is extremely powerful) gets a pass on having pets in their office, right? “Your step-brother is a close confidant of mine in my field of work.”

“Oh.” Mark swallows. “Well, I’m here to raise a concern about my cat.”

An unfamiliar voice pipes up, high and teasing. “Asking about a pet to the chief warlock of the Witching Corner? Please, do tell.”

It’s like the world gets more and more absurd the longer he’s in it. Mark blinks a few times before he registers that the Siamese cat is no longer there, and in its place is a lithe man perched on the ledge of the desk beside Mr. Moon, legs thrown over the warlock’s lap.

And it causes Mark’s heart to beat erratically. Another cat. That shifts. They  _ must _ know something about Haechan, or his condition, at the very least.

“Well, yes. My cat has been missing since this morning, perhaps even last night, exactly when all of this—” Mark gestures awkwardly at the space around him “—started to happen. Johnny and Doyoung said that it has something to do with an imbalance. And that my cat might have caused it.”

“A mundane cat wouldn’t have this kind of power over an entire magical sector,” the half-cat says. “You must be mistaken.”

“He’s not, Ten.” Mr. Moon pulls his arm away when Ten tries to latch onto his sleeve with rather sharp nails. “Mark, I have all magical beings and creatures documented here, in an ancient book that holds all that has been and gone. I’m sure your cat is in there as well.”

“But he isn’t magical—”

“I know your friends and family do not know of your cat’s true nature, but I do, I assure you.” Mr. Moon points to a chair set nearer to him, guiding Mark to sit in it. Mark does, but he still feels stiff and nervous. “Haechan is no ordinary pet, or familiar, like Ten, in this case.”

“Mr. Moon, with all due respect—”

“Call me Taeil, please.”

“Uhm… Taeil. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Haechan is just my cat. I’ve had him since I finished my apprenticeship.”

Ten curls his head under Taeil’s chin, brown hair the same shade as the dark spots of his cat form, brushing along Taeil’s neck, twisting around the warlock like a snake would a tree. “I don’t recommend lying to a warlock, Markie.”

Mark narrows his eyes at the half-cat. “Don’t call me that.”

Taeil clears his throat to recapture their attention. “Your cat is not who you think he is. As I said, he’s not just any familiar.”

Mark plays aimlessly with the hem of his shirt, biting the inside of his cheek. “Then what is he?”

“That’s a story for him to tell, not me. I do not know of his origins, but I know of the magic centralized in him. His intentions are unclear, and his kind does not fall under my rule of the Witching Corner. What he does is not something I have complete control over, not like I do with the other creatures here. He belongs to the elders of your clan.” Taeil sighs. “I’m sure he understands the consequences of leaving. I hope that no matter the repercussions to come in the next few days, he understands that he must return.”

Mark gulps. He looks out the glass windows again, and this time, registers how gray and foggy the world has become. It’s not the blue-skied, greenery-filled Witching Corner that he loves so dearly. Life is draining from it, hour by hour. The time is ticking. And Haechan is at fault. It makes Mark a little queasy inside.

Perhaps if he had kept a closer watch on Haechan. If he had talked to him more, understood him properly, then they would still be okay. 

Mark shakes his head. No, that wouldn’t be right. Haechan is his cat, yes, but Donghyuck is still his own person, and no witch, no matter how powerful, should have full autonomy over what Donghyuck can or can’t do.

“You seem conflicted,” Ten purrs.

Taeil lets out an exasperated sigh as he pushes Ten off of his lap unceremoniously. In a blink of an eye, the man disappears, replaced with the petite Siamese meowing angrily at his owner. 

“There’s not much we can do besides search for him. The only way to save the Witching Corner is for Haechan to return soon before the imbalance crushes the town in on itself.” Taeil pushes off of his desk now that he doesn’t have a person making a bed out of his lap, and he walks around it. Settling at his chair, he pulls out another stack of paperwork. He flicks a wrist, and a cabinet on the opposite side of the office flies open. A series of glass bottles and quills float across the room until it reaches his desk.

Taeil scratches something onto an unrolled parchment on his desk with one of the ink and quill sets, then switches to another paper to jot something else down. The Siamese cat taps playfully at one of the hovering feathers. He continues, “In the meantime, try to go about your day as you normally do. It’ll bring you more catharsis than you realize. I’ll work my hardest to keep the town in check until his return.”

Taeil brushes his fingers over the figures he had drawn and opens his palms towards Mark. Thin blue and purple lines dart towards Mark, before it circles his forehead like a halo, once, twice, and then the lines die away. Mark immediately feels a sense of tranquility wash over him.

“Tell your brother I said hello, if you will?” Taeil requests as Mark stands from his seat, heading towards the elevator.

“Of course.”

“One last thing.” 

Mark snaps around to glance towards the all-powerful warlock.

Taeil smiles a little ominously. “There are some things in this world more powerful than magic.”

  
  


Biking to the Northern Gate takes far more effort than Mark remembers. But then again, he’s never had to go from the eastern edge of the Witching Corner and up the hill to where the Northern Gate lies, where the slope is far steeper than if he were to go from the middle of town. 

The gate is not a physical gate. Rather, it’s an invisible wall that lies in the middle of the street, a force field that cuts right through the paved road separating the Witching Corner from the rest of the world. Inconspicuous, in case any humans pass by. Mark never quite figured out how the gates work in accordance with the human realm literally just across the street, but it’s classified information anyways. 

When he arrives, Renjun and Jeno are sitting side by side at a nearby bench. Renjun taps his foot impatiently, while Jeno plays with a marble, using his magic to guide the tiny ball along the back of his hand in figure eights. 

“Hey,” Mark greets. After propping his bike up against the back of the bench, he rounds it and joins the two. “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s no problem. Jaemin is quite the one for tardiness, anyways,” Renjun responds nonchalantly. 

The three sit idly in silence. Mark watches a curl of fog blowing slowly around the corner at the end of the street. He swallows uncomfortably. He has watched the skies get progressively worse in the past hour or so.

Eventually, Jaemin  _ does _ arrive, backpack slung over his shoulder as he walks to where the barrier is, a bright smile on his face. 

Renjun jumps up first, and Jeno and Mark follow.

“Hey,” Jaemin says, but his gaze is only focused on Renjun, intense and full of something Mark can’t quite read. Sometimes, Mark forgets that Jaemin doesn’t have magic like the rest of them. He has this intensity in him, this powerful source that he draws from, a fire brewing within him that should have fueled a powerful witch. Should have, but doesn't.

“Let’s give them a moment,” Jeno whispers to Mark, and they step a little distance away. 

Jeno has his marble out again, two of them this time, guiding them in spirals along the lines of his hands and fingers. The periwinkle and lavender spheres roll around each other, leaving a sparkling trail in its wake. 

“How long has it been?” Mark asks quietly. 

“One hundred and twelve days. He keeps tally on the whiteboard in the kitchen.” Jeno stows the marbles when he hears Renjun let out a gentle laugh that neither of them has really heard since those one hundred and twelve days ago. “I’m surprised Jaemin could stay away for so long without visiting.”

Mark hums in agreement before he catches Jaemin’s eye. He beckons the two witches to join.

“It’s been a long time, my dear friends,” Jaemin says with a wink. “How are my favorite witches doing?”

“Please, we all know we aren’t your favorites.” Jeno tucks the marbles away into his pocket. “But, good. Or, as good as it can be right now.”

The air around them shifts all of a sudden, as if the world being turned upside down already isn’t enough. Jaemin nods grimly. “I can feel it from here.”

Mark doesn’t have it in him to relay the information he had received from Taeil just prior to this meeting. He feels the guilt clawing at his insides.

“Well, this isn’t going to stop a visit from your best human friend, yes?” Jaemin’s lips quirk up into a smile again, but it doesn’t look genuine. He steps forward, only to be pushed back by an invisible force.

_ The barrier _ . Mark curses under his breath. Jaemin tries again. He shoves his shoulder against the glass-like wall. Mark can’t hear anything, though he sees Renjun’s frantic calls, the two pressing their hands against the gate. Renjun pounds on the wall, and Mark can feel the energy reverberating off of the gate, sending shivers through him.

The Witching Corner has locked Jaemin out— Jaemin, who was born and raised in this little town like the rest of them, like most of the creatures here, the magical family clans. If anything, he belonged here the most.

The Witching Corner has locked him out. Or, perhaps, it has locked the rest of them in.

  
  


Mark tosses his satchel onto the hook by the front door and quickly toes his shoes off. Excess energy thrums through him as he peels off his jacket. 

There’s too much bustling on his mind between all the events of today, so many worries to fret over. He’s ready to crash, or at least take a nap before he continues to deal with these issues for the rest of the night.

As he’s about to head to the kitchen to grab himself a nice cup of water, he’s struck with a pungent smell that he was quite familiar with back when he first finished his apprenticeship. And only one person he knows has this smell trailing after them at all times.

Mark sighs. He needs to stop leaving an extra set of keys under his doormat.

In his living room, sitting side by side on the couch, is his neighbor—  _ neighbors. _ What?

“Jaehyun,” Mark says with a sigh. “What the hell are you doing here again?”

“Hey, what’s with the attitude? We’re neighbors. We’re friends. What’s wrong with visiting?” Jaehyun smiles as he reclines on the couch, kicking his legs up. He didn’t even have the courtesy to take off his black leather boots, or to remove his studded leather jacket that has surely been in places Mark does not want to know about.

“Uninvited. That’s the word you're missing.” Mark squeezes his eyes shut, hand flying to the spot between his eyebrows to try and unknit the knot forming there. “And Lucas? What’s your excuse?”

The human sits up stoically, blinking. “I was trying to keep Jaehyun from breaking and entering. I’m not sure how I ended up in here.”

Lucas is an enigma. Not in the way that he’s mysterious, a case to be cracked. Moreso, he’s an enigma in which nobody quite knows how he managed to move into the Witching Corner despite being completely, utterly human. Absolutely no connection to any witch, warlock, or supernatural being in the district, and neighboring districts. 

Mark remembers Johnny telling him to keep an eye on his new neighbor while they researched his background, just in case the supposed human is a danger to the town, only to dig up nothing. Lucas just somehow managed to find a listing for an open apartment in the Witching Corner and started renting it. And by some miracle, he had been completely oblivious to the magic around him the entire two months he has lived here.

Mark looks at Jaehyun again, who just shrugs. Stupid demons thair their stupid coercion abilities.

But honestly, Mark doesn’t have it in him to force the two of them out of his apartment. Instead, he collapses in the space between the pair on the couch, letting the cushions eat him.

“Rough day?” Jaehyun asks.

“That’s not even half of it.” Mark’s hand searches around for a spare pillow that he can smash his face into, to no avail.

“I think I should get going,” Lucas pipes up. “I’ve caused enough trouble.”

Mark makes a random noise and grapples a hand on his shoulder blindly. “Nope, you’re here, and you’re going to listen to me rant about my problems.”

“Oh. Okay.”

So, Mark launches into the story, from his unusual morning with a missing cat, to his encounter with Taeil, and then Jaemin at the Northern Gate. He curls his legs in, hugging his knees to bring some sense of comfort to himself. And surprisingly, Jaehyun and Lucas listen rather intently, even though Jaehyun still smells strongly of weed and Lucas looks like he would do anything to go back to his own apartment across the hall.

“So what you’re saying is that your missing cat is responsible for all this bad energy around here?” Jaehyun concludes. 

“Please don’t say it like that,” Mark responds meekly. He focuses on his breathing, taking a long inhale, and then exhales. Calming, ever so slightly. But god, does he wish he had the familiar feeling of fur against his leg, reassuring him, pressing a tiny nose to the inside of his wrist. He misses it, especially right now. 

Jaehyun gives an apology and pats Mark’s head. It’s soothing enough.

“I don’t know what to do,” Mark finally says. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

The three wallow in silence, sinking into the couch cushions (though a couch shouldn’t eat people, should it?) 

Then, it’s interrupted by Lucas, who jolts upright, blinking at the witch and demon beside him. “Wait, I’m not going delusional right. You said that there are witches and warlocks here?”

Jaehyun blinks back at him. “Yes, Mark said that ten minutes ago.”

“Witches. As in magical witches and can curse you and stuff.”

“We don’t curse people!”

There’s a sudden, loud creak that catches their attention. From the other room, the kitchen, perhaps. They freeze.

“Why does everyone try to break into my house?” Mark mutters to himself before dragging himself off the couch.

“What if that’s another creature?” Lucas urges with wide eyes. “Will it eat us?”

“Nobody wants to eat humans,” Jaehyun scoffs. “They aren’t very tasty.”

Mark ignores the two and journeys towards the source of the noise, around the corner, and to the small, square kitchen.

And to his surprise, a thin, Siamese cat has its paws curled around the top ledge of the open window, body plastered against the glass as it struggles to climb up the smooth surface. Mark blinks at it pulls itself up by some miracle, slips through the thin opening, and tumbles into his house, onto the window sill, nearly knocking over the multicolored cups and mason jars lined up on the surface. Instead, it falls into the sink, and if Mark hadn’t done the dishes last night, things would have ended much  _ much _ worse.

The cat leaps out of the sink and onto the counter, a paw rubbing at its face and almost making a face of disgust. It then pounces across the countertop until it reaches the very edge, as close to Mark as it can, who is standing idly in the center of his kitchen in confusion. 

“What are you  _ doing  _ here?” Mark blinks at the cat with a look of disbelief. 

The cat meows, and… Smirks? It perches at the corner of the countertop and stares at Mark. Mark stares back.

“Did you find a replacement cat?”

Mark turns to find Jaehyun leaning on the frame of the archway leading into the kitchen, chewing on a lollipop that he certainly did not have a few minutes ago and looks mysteriously like it belongs to the stash of candy Mark keeps in one of his cabinets in the living room that he pulls out when he needs the sugar rush. 

“No, he’s—”

“Holy fuck!”

Apparently, Lucas had joined them out of curiosity, left yelling in fear (or amazement, it’s hard to tell) because of the Siamese cat that had shifted mid-jump, landing on the tile on his feet as a human instead.

"Does this happen on a normal basis?!" Lucas shrieks.

Ten looks past Mark at Mark's guests. "You have a human  _ and _ a demon here? Your home is quite the circus now, isn't it?"

Jaehyun frowns and crosses his arms. "Says the cat that fell climbing in. Aren’t your kind always supposed to land on their feet?"

“ _ Aren’t your kind always supposed to land on your feet _ — Shut up, you fiery heathen.” Ten mimics. He sticks his tongue out at Jaehyun before returning his focus to Mark. "Anyways, before this spawn of Satan rudely interrupted me with his dreadful stereotypes, I came here to look for you, not your... odd choice of company."

Mark sighs. He cocks his head at the opening of the kitchen to guide the three trespassers back into the living room.

Jaehyun and Lucas settle back onto the couch, while Ten chooses to sit on the top of the backrest of the sofa in between the two. He crosses his legs and grins sneakily.

Mark stands in front of them, hands on his hips, and he feels like Taeyong scolding Chenle and Jisung at the beginning of the apprenticeship for magic misconduct. He never thought he'd be on this end of that kind of interaction, though.

"Let me get this straight," Mark says, lifting his hand and listing off finger by finger, "Jaehyun just wanted to break into my apartment because he's Jaehyun—”

"I was wondering if you had any candles, actually."

"—to look for candles. Okay. Lucas tried to stop him but somehow ended up sitting on my couch too."

"To be fair, I wanted to make sure he didn't do anything bad because I couldn't stop him from breaking the lock."

Mark sighs, exasperated. "And Ten, you're here because..."

"I have some more information about Haechan for you."

Mark perks up. "Haechan?"

"Yup." Ten braces his elbow on his knee and leans his chin on his palm. "Without Taeilie breathing down my neck, I can actually give you valuable information. You may want to take a seat."

Mark does as told, pulling up the spare chair from the tiny circle dining table he set up in the odd space between the kitchen and living room. It’s one of the few surfaces in his home not completely scattered with potion ingredients as of now.

Ten starts once Mark settles in his seat. "Like Taeilie said, Haechan is not a familiar."

"Of course he is, most witches—”

"Can you remember when you two were tied together?"

Mark freezes. He wishes he never let the cat in. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

He can't remember. Haechan was always here. Once Mark started his apprenticeship alongside Renjun, the two of them working under their respective mentors, the black cat has been there, a seemingly permanent fixture in his life. He was gifted to Mark by his family, and they had told him that he was a special case, having a familiar to accompany him through his training rather than after his graduation. Mark didn’t question it. He couldn’t imagine what those few years working under Doyoung would have been like without Donghyuck there to keep him company.

“Lucky for you,” Ten continues, “While the head warlock keeps track of the regularities of the Witching Corner, I have been tasked to deal with the irregularities. And one of those that I have been analyzing over for the past two decades is your cat. He’s quite an interesting creature. Has absolutely no respect for me as an elder.” Ten turns his nose up to that, as if said cat was here.

Mark fidgets in his seat. It’s one thing to acknowledge something as possibly different, and another for the suspicion to be confirmed. He doesn’t know if he wants Ten to carry on.

But he does anyways, before Mark can interject.

“I am rather surprised he has managed to keep his identity secret for so long. It must have been a collective effort for you and him to keep the entirety of the Witching Corner in the shadows about Donghyuck.”

“Wait a minute,” Jaehyun says, raising a hand to keep Ten from continuing. “Whose Donghyuck?”

“My cat,” Mark replies quietly.

“I thought his name was Haechan.”

“He is. When he’s a cat.”

“You mean—” Jaehyun glances from Mark to Ten. “Haechan is like him?” Jaehyun jabs his thumb in Ten’s direction. Ten whacks his hand away with a flick.

“Were you not listening this entire time? I said he was different,” Ten states. “Anyways, Haechan has a very intense magical energy to him that is almost as strong as a witch’s, which is should be impossible. And with him out of the Witching Corner—”

“He’s not in the Witching Corner?”

Another wave of panic arises from the pit of Mark’s stomach. He should have looked harder today. He shouldn’t have let his friends reassure him that Haechan would be okay on his own. He should have searched every crevice of his hometown, and then every corner of the neighboring human town. Everything upturned until he gets his cat back, to return to the comfortable normalcy he loves about his hometown.

Mark can feel the distance, if the emptiness in his chest means anything. Haechan is gone,  _ Donghyuck _ is gone, and not only is it messing up his home, but it is scaring Mark beyond compare. 

“The lack of his magical energy is causing an imbalance here. I don’t know what business he has for leaving the Witching Corner without you, but I suggest that for all of our best interest that we find him soon before the entire town crashes in on itself.”

The pit of his stomach falls. Mark is sure he’s grown extremely pale.

“It can’t be  _ that  _ bad,” Jaehyun reasons when he sees Mark go silent and sickly. 

“Oh, it will be. This is why all major movements of magical beings are strictly monitored.”

Lucas speaks up for the first time in a while, though utterly confused about this whole talk of magic and creatures. His eyebrows are furrowed, deep in thought. “Mark, do you know why he would leave, by any chance?”

Was it his fault? Did Mark do something to drive Haechan away? His head starts to swim in a pool of quicksand, his thoughts running too fast and sinking into thick liquid. He feels like he’s going to collapse.

“No,” he ends up saying. His eyes scan across the three people on his couch. “Yes? I don’t know.”

“He’s smart, and he’s magical. Maybe while you have your own things to do as a… witch… he also has things he needs to do as a cat.”

“The human is right,” Jaehyun concedes. “I didn’t think I would ever agree with a mortal about something.”

Before Mark can reply, his landline starts ringing. Instead of picking up with a quick flick of the wrist as he normally would, he stands, taking his time to walk to the other side of the room where the machine is mounted on the wall, careful to keep his queasiness in check, and then grabs the phone. 

“Hello?”

“ _ Mark? _ ”

It’s Johnny. Johnny never calls him.

“Johnny? Is something wrong?”

“ _ I’m at home right now. _ ”

Home. Not his apartment he shares with Kun. Home, as in the Lee Clan’s estate. 

“Is there something wrong?”

“ _ Mom has something to tell you. When can you get here? _ ”

“Is it urgent?”

“ _ Maybe not, but for you, it is. _ ”

What that’s supposed to mean, Mark doesn’t know. “I’ll bike there right now.”

“Alright.  _ See you soon _ .”

Mark clicks the phone back on the machine before he lets out the breath he’s been holding. 

“Family troubles?” Ten calls out first, a mischievous grin back on his face, the atmosphere flipping all of a sudden. While Mark remains serious and sullen, Ten had rolled off the couch backward and landed gracefully on his feet.

“I have to get going.” Mark scuffles across the room to grab his jacket again. “All of you, out of my apartment.”

“Don’t have to be so touchy about it,” Ten teases. He makes his way towards the front door while Jaehyun and Lucas follow. However, he takes a sharp turn towards the kitchen again. Mark sighs and follows him.

“Lucas is right. Haechan would only leave if he had something really important,” Ten says softly when they’re alone, his cattish mischief falling away. “It’s rooted too deep for me to guess, but please, don’t worry about it too much. He must love you a lot, and nothing can destroy a proper bond between a witch and their familiar.”

“But you said—”

“Hush.” Ten pushes a finger to Mark’s lips. “Technicalities are stupid.” He takes a few steps backward until he is brushing against the countertop.

“One last thing.” The smirk is back on Ten’s face again. “Remember, Markie. Cats have nine lives.”

And then he shifts, agile body melting down into its smaller figure. Mark barely realizes what’s happening until he feels the furry tip of Ten’s cattail swiping under his nose as the cat pads along the edge of the countertop. The witch nearly sneezes in response.

Ten manages to claw his way up the side of the windowsill (destroying the paint of the drywall along the way that Mark won’t be able to fix anytime soon) and squeezes through the thin opening again. Mark watches him fall. He lives on the third floor. It doesn’t matter, cats almost always land on their feet.

He leaves, grabbing his satchel, making sure to lock the door on his way out again, though there’s no guarantee someone isn’t going to break in, and sets out towards his home, his first home.

  
  


The Witching Corner has evolved over the centuries to better suit the neighboring towns, to blend in with the rows of wooden houses turned apartment complexes and skyscrapers, the uneven cobbled roads turned paved streets. What remains untouched, however, is in the Southwest corner, an out-of-place circle of estates in a fenced-off area of land. The estates outline a round, empty field. That place is specifically marked for its proximity to certain cosmic objects, where festivals and celebrations are conducted on special solstice days, for example. 

The magic is strongest during those events, in which the witch and warlock clans of each estate come together to calculate when and what is to be conducted in each festival. Magic is harvested and honed in those short hours. 

Mark has not properly attended one of those celebrations since his youth, but he remembers all the fun he had back then, surrounded by his family and friends, watching as their parents collect the power from the stars and celestial beings and store them away. He remembers lying on that field on normal days, staring at the white speckles in the navy blue sea, squinting to make the lights sparkle like they do when they are closer. 

Since finishing his apprenticeship, Mark has not gone home. He supposes it’s because he wanted some freedom of his own, a bird flying away from its nest. He wanted to start something of his own, to become someone beyond a member of the Lee Clan.

He bikes along the red-bricked roundabout after entering the gated vicinity until he gets to the opposite side of the entrance. The usually green lawns of the estates look gray, like a thin sheet of frost had covered them and intended on freezing the plants over. The field that he bikes around looks the same; dark, dying. 

Mark stops when he reaches the blue-trimmed Victorian house, freshly repainted. He misses the pale blue it was before. Something about it doesn’t quite feel like home.

He leans his bike on the wall of the porch, and with a touch of his hand to the front door, it creaks open to let in the future inheritor of the house.

Everything about the inside looks a little out of place, a little different. He remembers this feeling quite well. Multiple times, he’s had this exact feeling. The first, after his father passed away when he was a baby. The second, when his mother remarried Johnny’s father, joining the Seo and Lee Clans together. Of course, one was far more somber than the other, but Mark’s stomach churns with an uneasiness that he remembers quite clearly from his youth.

He takes a deep breath before he rounds the corner to the living room.

Sure enough, his family is there, his parents on the couch, talking quietly with Johnny and Kun behind them. Surprisingly enough, Renjun and Doyoung are here as well. Mark’s apprenticeship partner is paging through an old book in the back corner of the room, while his former mentor sips on a warm cup of tea.

Mark licks his lips nervously, freezing in the middle of the room. He glances at his parents, who seem rather grim for people who have not seen their son in months. Then, he looks towards Johnny, Kun, Renjun, Doyoung— all far too serious.

“What’s going on?” he asks timidly. “Am I in trouble? It feels like I’m in trouble.”

“No, honey, don’t worry about that,” his mother says with a small smile. “Please, sit down.”

Mark slowly walks to the couch opposite the rest of his family and slowly lowers himself into it. Immediately, he begins to fidget.

“We’ve contacted the chief warlock about this current situation to see if we could figure out what the problem is. Johnny, Kun, and Doyoung have searched all through the town. Renjun had reported a shift in the Gate’s magic.” His mother looks at Mark with as much reassurance as she can muster. She must know that  _ he _ knows what the problem is.

And that’s what breaks him.

“I’m so sorry,” Mark exhales sharply. A sob almost forces its way out of his throat. “I’m so sorry.”

Johnny and Kun rush towards him first. They kneel on either side of Mark, Kun grabbing one of his palms to hold, Johnny placing a placating hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s not your fault, Mark,” Kun says, his grip on Mark’s hand tight and soothing. Mark manages to even out his breathing a little more.

Mark’s stepfather speaks up. “There’s something about Haechan that we need to tell you.”

At this point, Mark isn’t afraid for himself as much as he is for his cat.

He is Haechan, the black cat with an attitude that Mark finds too endearing for his own good. He is Donghyuck, who only becomes Donghyuck at night, who likes to steal the blankets on cold nights and snuggle close to act as Mark’s personal heater. He is the moon who holds his orbit around Mark by gravitational pull. 

_ What on earth is he to have caused this? _

Donghyuck was not always a cat.

Decades ago, he had been a boy much like the witches and warlocks living amidst his town. He had been a boy only, however, not with magic like the rest of the children he enjoyed playing with. However, he was content with that life: being human made him special. 

That happy, go-lucky boy grows up quick. Soon enough, he is ready to leave home and find something for himself, a place not so potent with the magic he does not have. 

But before he could leave, could get away, he was caught. The town was discovered, the barrier torn down as fearful humans rampaged the village of witches and warlocks. He watched the only world he knew burn, ablaze until it was nothing but black ashes of former homes and friends. And he watched in the midst of it, while the fire of the torches ate away at its wooden fuel, and enticingly licked at Donghyuck. 

Maybe it’s because he’s been fascinated with magic his whole life, and this just felt like another one of those moments. The orange-yellow flames wave at him, and he waves back too excitedly. 

Before he knew it, his lungs were filled with what felt like flames but looked like fluttering fine-grained sand. Breathing was difficult, that much he can remember. He felt it consuming his body until he couldn’t function, collapsing in the fiery village as the yells of their attackers grew quieter and quieter as they retreated. 

When he woke up, he knew he was no longer human.

A newfound energy coursed through him as he laid in the clean bed, in the clean room, in clean clothes. His lungs took in fresh air with ease. It didn’t hurt to press his fingers against his skin. Reborn, but still in his old body.

His tie with the Lee Clan was strung when they saved the human boy, half-dead in the destroyed magical village. In exchange for saving him, he serves the Clan for the rest of the life breathed into him. Imbued with their family magic, he is as much as a child of the bloodline as any Lee witch. 

With that magic, his humanity was lost. He became an immortal companion to the Clan, a familiar for a witch of each generation. But witches are not immortal like he is, and he has watched the ones he love grow and go repeatedly, painfully. 

Sometimes, Donghyuck wishes that he had left the world all those decades ago, wishes he was not saved and turned into what he is now. He would exchange anything to never feel the hurt of losing another again.

Especially not this time. Donghyuck doesn’t think he can bear losing Mark. 

So he sets off, in search of something, anything that can keep them together. Donghyuck leaves, this one time, but it’s his only chance to make things correct. 

He’s a cat, and cats have nine lives, after all. He thinks he can spare at least one of them in exchange for a full, well-lived one with Mark. 

  
  


The sky brews like the bottom of Mark’s cauldron when he prepares a batch of healing potion. The dark clouds swirl inwards, forming an eye like one of a hurricane. Mark has never seen something like this before.

He runs as fast as his legs can take him. He feels it, whatever it is, tugging him, pulling him towards his other half. They’ve never been far enough apart for the bond— what Mark decides to call it— to act up. But here it is, and it’s guiding him to the Southern Gate, where the stormy clouds are most concentrated, so dark that it looks like night though it is at most late afternoon. 

He nearly trips multiple times on the way, the fog growing thicker and thicker until the entire town is covered in a translucent film. Mark can barely see what’s right in front of him. He thought it had been bad this morning, but somehow, that has multiplied tenfold within the past few hours. 

Mark hears the pattering of feet a few minutes later, then some heavy breathing and irritated cursing. When he squints, he can make out the figures in the gray smoke.

“What’d you run so fast for?” Johnny complains, bending over to catch his breath. Kun pats his back and calls him a baby for not being able to keep up, to which Johnny retorts, “I’m getting old!”

Doyoung and Renjun also join him, but Mark is already moving towards where the Gate should be. He extends a hand until his fingertips brush against a surface, though the space seems empty. He flattens his hand against it, and the fog around where he touches the barrier fades slightly.

He sighs. There’s nothing across from him beside the normal streets of the outside world, the warm sun peeking around the buildings but never reaching the Witching Corner. Mark had hoped that the innate tug would mean something, but maybe that was just paranoia. 

Nothing. Disappointment settles at the pit of his stomach.

The sharp intake of breath by Mark’s side is what makes him spin towards the sound. He’s confronted with Kun’s hands over his mouth, eyes wide with shock, and Johnny on one knee, fumbling with something in his pocket. 

Mark blinks at them, noting the confusion in Renjun and Doyoung’s faces, Johnny’s nervous half-smile. 

His brother has never been great at reading the room, if he’s honest. Mark remembers when he was younger, when his mother was breaking the news that Mark’s grandmother was sick and in the hospital, and Johnny ran in with a stack of books in hand, yelling excitedly about something despite the somber atmosphere. It took him several minutes before he retreated from the room, ready to try again with a proper emotion, the second time around. 

Kun voices Mark’s concern out loud. “Johnny, I’m absolutely flattered, and before I go on, the answer is yes— But why on  _ earth  _ did you think this was the right time to propose to me?”

Johnny freezes. “Is this not a good time? I was just thinking that if the world were to come to an end soon, I’d at least get to the fiancé stage…”

Mark tries so hard not to facepalm. 

“Lord Almighty, why do I love you so much?” Kun says, and then he’s bending down to embrace him, Johnny looking completely shocked that Kun actually said yes. Doyoung and Renjun clap slowly, sharing more puzzled glances. 

Before Mark can join, he feels the string grow taut, unsure where it is headed. It turns him towards the barrier again. 

“Donghyuck,” he mumbles to himself. Then louder, to call out to him. “Donghyuck!”

He had been looking for the black cat all this time. Instead of the small, dark silhouette he expected to be met with, he comes face to face with a figure only familiar to himself. He thinks that there are tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Mark’s hand splays on the Gate, and he would break it if he could, punch at the invisible wall until he can have Donghyuck back in his arms.

Donghyuck gently matches his hand to Mark’s, staring rather fascinated at where they almost meet. Mark can barely feel the heat from his hand, and in turn, the sunny skies just a short distance away, so close that he thinks it can cure the dark storms he knows is growing bigger behind him.

“Mark,” Donghyuck whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

Mark wants to close his hand and lace their fingers together beyond anything in the world right now. “Hey, it’s okay,” he replies. “It’s all okay.”

“The Witching Corner is in chaos, Mark, it’s not alright.”

“We’ll get through it. We can save this place.”

Donghyuck nods a little solemnly, as if he knows what is to come in order to save his home, the sacrifices that must be made to rebalance something that has been teetering precariously for so long already.

“I missed you,” Mark says. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. You didn’t know about my… condition yet.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Not until I could fix it, no.” Donghyuck’s eyes are downcast with a slight frustration in them. They are like warm amber. “Mark, I want to stay with you. I don’t want to move on once you get old, and lose you like I lost so many others already. It feels like such a pointless cycle in this second life.”

“You won’t lose me.”

“I’m immortal. I’ve learned that it’s a curse.” Donghyuck’s hand closes into a fist against the Gate. “It’s a curse because I want to grow old with you and love you the best I can until we’re wrinkly and ugly.” He scrunches his nose, rather reminiscent of the little things he does in his cat form.

“Donghyuck…”

“I’m selfish and I wanted to find someone to move me on to the third life. But I think I’ve just ended up causing a problem bigger than all of us.” He sniffles. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’ll be okay, Hyuck. Just come home. We’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how the Witching Corner is going to react if I just go back. I might mess up the balance even more.”

Mark looks behind him. It has grown darker, but he can just barely see the sun through the clouds. The bright mass looks silvery, more like the moon than it does the sun. The fog is growing rather stifling. 

“I think it’ll welcome you home, Donghyuck. This is where you belong.”

Donghyuck takes a deep breath before he locks eyes with Mark again. There’s a look in his amber eyes that tries to convey something. He looks reluctant, that perhaps coming home would make his efforts worthless in the end. 

Still, Donghyuck is fearless. He takes a couple of steps back, ready to take a running start. Mark moves aside for him.

Donghyuck kicks off, and Mark bites the inside of his cheek. 

Just as he’s about to break into the Gate, however, Donghyuck shifts, human body reshaping quickly into the far smaller figure of a cat. Haechan passes through the barrier with ease and lands in the Witching Corner. 

Almost immediately, the fog dissolves, and Mark can make out the buildings around him clearly. The sky clears, the sun turning back into the sun again. Mark feels the weight that the darkness has placed on him lift, and he lets out a relieved sigh. The rest of his family look around in bewilderment, watching the Witching Corner return to its former, magical glory.

Mark feels something soft bump his shin. Haechan circles his legs a few times, then nuzzles his furry head against Mark’s knee. So this is what he meant to say. It’ll be Haechan left, only.

Mark squats down to run his hand over the black cat’s fur, scratching under his ears. He can tell something is off with the way Haechan tries to hide his face in Mark’s palm. 

“Let’s go home,” Mark offers at last. He lets Haechan crawl into his arms, settling comfortably in the crook of his elbows. “It’s been a long day.”

  
  


Luckily, in the span of the past few hours or so, nobody else had broken into his apartment. Exhausted, Mark opens the door for Haechan to enter first before following closely behind. He goes through the same motions from earlier that day, peeling off his jacket, toeing off his shoes, dropping his bag somewhere along the way.

He runs a hand tiredly through his hair and lets out a long exhale. He automatically drags himself in the direction of the bedroom and manages to fall on the bed without collapsing. Thankfully, with most of his business orders being in the other half of the year, he can keep his bedroom void of potion materials, most of the bottles and boxes stored in his kitchen and living room. Kun had nagged him about the safety precautions of keeping ingredients out in random places recently and proceeded to clean out all the extra snippets of herbs and spare vials from the room.

Haechan pounces onto the mattress and settles in front of Mark, curling his legs under him to form an oval. Mark rolls onto his side, head tucked on his arm, watching Haechan lick at his front paw.

“Will I be seeing Donghyuck again soon?” Mark says without thinking. As much as he misses his cat, he misses having the boy in his arms more.

Over the years, Mark has learned that a cat can express far more emotions in their eyes and small gestures than he thought they could. Haechan’s amber eyes look sad. Mark sighs.

“Are you a cat forever, then?”

Haechan drops his head to rest on his paws, as if to nod, confirming Mark’s previous suspicions.

“That’s okay.” Mark reaches forward to scratch at the scruff of his neck. “I love you even still. You’re part of me as much as I’m a part of you. Even when I’m gone, you’ll have me within you.”

Haechan meows quietly before padding across the mattress so that he can curl into a circle under Mark’s neck. The witch can feel the cat’s body gently rise and fall, fur tickling against his chin. 

Home. This is what home feels like now. The little apartment at the edge of the Witching Corner. The apartment where Mark brews his magical concoctions while Haechan prowls around when he’s bored. The apartment that leads off to the balcony where his life source lies, in the little potted herbs and flowers that he has raised on his own. The apartment that Mark goes to sleep in with the boy who he loves and who loves him in his arms.

This time, Mark nuzzles his nose into the fur, taking in the flowery smell that comes from the dust of his moonflowers that Haechan particularly likes to sniff when they bloom. It’s calming enough to draw Mark into a much-needed sleep.

And when Mark wakes up the following morning, instead of a ball of fur next to him, there are arms and legs tangled with his, chest pressed tightly to him, and a chin hooked over his shoulder. The breaths against his body are heavier. There’s a quiet sigh of contentment when Mark’s first instinct makes him link his arms around the waist of the body, pulling him closer.

Home. Donghyuck has returned home at last.

  
  


The graduation ceremony is held at the park in the center of town, where they have held every graduation ceremony for as long as Mark can remember. His and Renjun’s were themed quite differently, with vases of pink and yellow flowers lining the aisle and stage, courtesy of Kun’s month-long planning to make sure the plants were in full bloom for the occasion. Mark remembers Sungchan and Jeno’s to be a bit more… chaotic, to say the least, with Johnny in charge that time around. 

Thankfully, with Doyoung and Taeyong as the mentors, the ceremony is put together, the stage and seats lined with twinkling little lights. This is the first time Mark will witness a night ceremony, but it’s fitting with Taeyong’s magic specialty focused on celestial bodies and beings. The stars are out to cheer on the soon-to-be full witches. 

Mark sits in the second row, for the first row of seats is reserved for the leading mentors in the apprenticeship program. Doyoung and Taeyong’s seats are empty as they scramble around with last-minute preparations, while Johnny and Kun are setted, hands in each others, Johnny leaning his head on Kun’s shoulder even though he has to bend down rather awkwardly to reach.

Even Taeil is here, on the opposite side of the aisle, legs crossed as he shifts through some paperwork, a Siamese cat taking the chair next to him, sprawled lazily on the cushion. 

With the return of Haechan, rebalancing the magical energy of the Witching Corner, the gates have reverted back to normal, and Jaemin was able to return for a short visit. For all Mark knows, he and Renjun have been talking— actually talking, not the sit down, avoid the subject, leave it for another day type of talking that led them into this entire mess in the first place— with the possibility of Jaemin moving back to the Witching Corner on the table. As of now, they’re sitting in the two seats next to Mark, waiting silently, Renjun’s palm over Jaemin’s hand on his knee.

The rest of the spots are mostly filled with other witches and warlocks, some of Mark’s family and their friends. Sometime when he first arrived, he spotted Yuta here, too, which means the rest of his diner’s little family are present for the festivities.

“How many ceremonies have you been to?” Mark asks, leaning into Donghyuck.

“Lord, I don’t even know. I remember attending Taeyong and Kun’s all those years ago… Your mother’s too. Maybe fifty?” Donghyuck brings a hand up and tries to list them, counting off his fingers, before giving up when he can’t recall more than twenty years into the past.

Mark giggles, turning his cheek to look up at Donghyuck. “Which one was the worst one you remember?”

“Worst?” Donghyuck quirks an eyebrow. “Baekhyun and Taemin’s— Did you know, they had a pond fixture that ended up overflowing and flooded the venue?”

“My uncle Taemin??”

“Yup. I just remember that one in particular because I’m… you know. Not a fan of water.”

Mark starts to snicker again but goes quiet when the lights dim around him. He straightens up in his seat, but not before grabbing onto Donghyuck’s hand to play with.

The ceremony goes on like Mark remembers his went. The mentors on stage, reading through the traditional scriptures and speeches and whatnot, then the witches join them from either side. Some more talking. Mark can see Jisung physically yawn in response. For a witch aligned with the night sky, he sure doesn’t seem like it with how sleepy he looks. 

Taeyong presents the silver needle to prick Chenle and Jisung’s fingertips for them to initiate the blood pact that bonds them for life, a promise that their apprenticeship together means they’ve formed a brotherhood, to have each other’s backs, to protect each other. 

And just like that, the official part of the graduation is over and the reception commences. Jisung lights up as soon as he can peel off his clan’s traditional garments, which sound quite heavy considering the clink it made when he unclipped it from his shoulder. Then, he’s sprinting off, Chenle close behind him. Taeyong sighs, squatting down to grab the two robes.

“You get to party with us properly this time,” Mark says when he stands, hand still interlocked with Donghyuck’s. “I’ll get to introduce you to everyone.”

“They’ll be so confused.” Donghyuck smiles mischievously. “I love it.”

There’s nothing that was lost after Donghyuck became, well, permanently him. Mark  _ does  _ miss the soft, warm ball of fur that he’s always been used to scampering across the house, but having another human around makes the space feel far less empty, especially during the day. Donghyuck still carries cattish features with him, how he presents himself, and how he cuddles, rubbing his head under Mark’s head though he doesn’t quite fit like he did as a cat. Mark finds it endearing.

The two mingle throughout the party, and Mark greets his friends, telling them that Haechan is technically in front of them. To Donghyuck’s disappointment, they didn’t react as expressively as he had hoped for. Jeno had looked him up and down and asked whether his own cat had gossiped with him.

(“Bongshik doesn’t spill  _ anything _ . He’s so tight-lipped for no reason,” Donghyuck complains. “He was so boring to hang out with.”

“Hey! Don’t talk about my cat like that!”

“Then train him to be more amiable!”)

Jungwoo said that he knew straight away, the first time they met, that Haechan wasn’t just a cat. Too much character and too many opinions in those round eyes, apparently. Mark supposes that those closely associated with mythical creatures have an affinity towards each other of some sort.

“So, kitty managed to make it out alive, huh?”

Mark winces before they turn to face the source of the voice. Ten is alone with a drink in hand, smirking. 

“I did,” Donghyuck replies with an uptilt of his chin. “Things worked out.”

“After you nearly destroyed your home and your boyfriend.”

Donghyuck narrows his eyes at the familiar.

Ten only smiles back. “Anyways, I’m glad you didn’t end up exploding the Witching Corner. That would have been quite the tragedy. I hope that my friend wasn’t too much of a bother when you visited?”

Mark frowns to himself when Donghyuck continues the short conversation. He has no clue what it’s about, or that Donghyuck and Ten knew each other so well. Though, Donghyuck probably  _ does  _ go out and about with his own business to conduct when Mark is asleep… He decides to tune it out in favor of people-watching. He witnesses Chenle and Jisung nearly break the chocolate fountain when the top begins to bubble uncontrollably as a result of Chenle trying to plug the fountain with a strawberry.

“Thank you for your help, Ten.” Donghyuck nods at him before wrapping his arms tighter around Mark’s bicep. “I appreciate it.”

Ten raises his drink towards them in acknowledgment. “It was my pleasure.” He turns and melts back into the crowds like he was never here.

The festivities begin to die down soon after, especially with how late the ceremony began. Mark guesses that it’s far past midnight. Hopefully, if they leave in the next few hours, he’d be able to check up on his plants before they close up for the night.

They end up bumping into Johnny and Kun, who have grabbed their things, ready to retire for the night. By the looks of it, Johnny red-faced and leaning into Kun, he’s rather drunk and far from functioning. Kun has an arm draped around his waist to keep him from collapsing.

“Hey,” Kun says. “Haven’t talked to you guys all night.”

“You seemed a little preoccupied.” Mark glances at the half-asleep man in Kun’s arms. “I can’t believe you actually said yes to him.”

“He can be a handful, I do agree…”

“You know I’m still here, right?” Johnny drawls. He looks up at Kun, eyes wide. “I can hear everything…”

“Yes, dear, I know.” Kun fixes Johnny’s head on his shoulder and pats his cheek. “I should get him home before he does something stupid.”

“Hey! Mark, where’s your cat?” Johnny says with a loopy giggle.

“Right in front of you,” Donghyuck responds matter-of-factly. 

“You aren’t a cat, stupid—”

“Okay, that’s my cue.” Kun waves at the pair before dragging his fiancé out of the dwindling crowd of the party.

“Perhaps we should go home, too,” Mark says. “It is very late.”

“This is when we usually stay up and talk, though,” Donghyuck pouts. “And tonight’s special. Stay, just a bit longer.”

Even though Mark’s body tells him that he should be getting back and falling into the comforts of his own bed, he concedes and lets Donghyuck drag him off again.

There are only a few attendees left, including the graduate witches and their mentors. They’re sitting on folding chairs, blankets pulled over their legs as they lean back and watch the sky move. Mark and Donghyuck join them and lie on a blanket they had spread out along the grass.

“The shooting star is coming,” Taeyong tells them. “I can feel its energy. It should have a slight pink tinge to it.”

Indeed, after a few more minutes of staring at the freckles of stars of the universe, a thin, white stripe hurtles across the night. The star seems to leave fairy dust in its wake, raining down like Mark’s moonflowers do. 

Mark turns his head to glance at Donghyuck, finding the special constellations on his golden skin, star-like moles on his temple, ear, nose, neck. He would like to find a pen and connect them one day, name them, gaze at them for nights without end. 

Donghyuck turns and catches Mark’s staring. He raises an eyebrow.

“What is it?” Donghyuck hums quietly. 

“I— Nothing. I was just looking...” Mark can feel his cheeks grow hot before he blurts out, “You’re beautiful.”

Donghyuck’s eyes close when he laughs. He looks overcome by joy, and Mark is enchanted. He can’t believe this is who he gets to live with and love for the rest of his life.

“That was cheesy, Mark Lee.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t worry, cheesy is fine.” Donghyuck reaches a hand forward to tap Mark’s nose. The hand stays to cup Mark’s cheek. His thumb follows the curve of Mark’s face with gentle strokes. “I love you,” he whispers with an addictive smile.

Mark turns his head slightly so he can kiss the inside of Donghyuck’s palm. “I love you too. I’m glad you chose to stay with me.”

“It wasn’t really a choice I had to make.” Donghyuck shifts to his side and leans in. “The universe told me one day that it was you. Not like I didn’t know that already…”

Mark bites his lower lip to hold back a grin. “If you say so,” he says, before he tilts his chin slightly so that their noses don’t bump on accident when their lips meet. 

Donghyuck is the darkness, the nighttime with moles for stars and button nose for the moon. But he’s also the light, the morning warmth, the golden sun rays that sneaks past Mark’s curtains so it can heat up the apartment. Donghyuck is the combination of both, and Donghyuck is Mark’s entire world. 

Mark smiles as he kisses Donghyuck. He tastes like childhood sweets and his best memories. He tastes like love, whatever that would even taste like. 

Mark presses his forehead against Donghyuck’s, their breaths mingling, a rather sharp contrast to the cool night air. 

“You’re never going to leave again, will you?” Mark asks, though he knows the answer already.

Donghyuck shakes his head. “Nope. I’m stuck with you forever.”

“Good.” Mark goes in for another kiss. “Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanons that I have!
> 
> Dotae are basically almost married here. They both work as mentors, and both of them are lead witches/warlocks in the Witching Corner. Taeyong is a cosmic witch, and Doyoung is potions-affiliated.
> 
> Yuwin are actually married and run Gudetama together with their lovely barista, Jungwoo, and their new employee Shotaro is Yuta’s younger cousin. It’s never been properly mentioned, but while Sicheng is a dragon descendant, Yuta is actually a kitsune descendant (and so is Shotaro, as they are in the same bloodline)! And Jungwoo is of phoenix descent. It’s good in case someone accidentally burns down the restaurant again…
> 
> Renjun and Mark did their apprenticeship at the same time, Mark under Doyoung, and Renjun under Kun, mainly because of the direction they wanted to take their magic. Doyoung and Johnny have a slight rivalry over this because Johnny had wanted to mentor Mark, who ultimately chose to work under Doyoung instead. Renjun and Mark, along with the other pairs of training witches are bonded by blood as a safety thing. The pairings here are Chenle and Jisung, Mark and Renjun, and Jeno and Sungchan :D
> 
> Guanheng and Dejun are nymph descendants, which is why they actually have slightly green-tinged skin. They’re quite like elves. Before moving to the Witching Corner, they had lived together in a small forest village far away, before they decided to try city life. 
> 
> Taeil is the head warlock, and kind of like the mayor of the town. He’s in charge of keeping the magic running smoothly, and has strong control over the seasons (a major influencer of magic alongside day/night). And Ten helps him by taking on the odd jobs and by curling up in his lap when he works (as much as Taeil thinks it’s irritating, he also really likes it. Very comforting.)
> 
> As for the friend Ten sent Haechan to see, Sher headcanons it as the high and mighty, all-powerful warlock Heechul. 
> 
> Jaehyun… is honestly just here to vibe. He doesn’t really do his demon stuff anymore, just really likes candy and lounging around. Lucas is also just here on accident and has no idea what’s going on with the magic stuff, but he’s dealing with it. They honestly hang out in Mark’s dining room pretty often when he’s out doing errands.
> 
> Johnkun are… to be explained, and so are Renmin ;)
> 
> find me on  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/johnshuaa)


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